It never did.

INSPIRED BY MINOR HOLIDAY BY SPARKBIRD, STEPHAN NANCE, GRETA GERTLER

I rise from my bed, stretching.

I hit the back of my hand against the board of my bed, hurting it.

This won’t matter in a few seconds, so I don’t fret.

I get up, go to brush my teeth.

I jam my toe into the wall. It hurts for a few moments

but it won’t matter in a few minutes. I stay calm.

I get dressed and go to grab my coffee,

and I spill the hot beverage all over my skin, burning it.

It won’t matter in an hour.

I don’t even spare the burn a glance.

I drive to work, and on my way, I get distracted, crashing directly into another car.

My car’s damaged and my head’s dizzy.

It won’t matter in a few hours. I don’t panic.

I get to my office after a while, and I check my phone.

My dog, who’s been in the hospital, has passed away.

It’s alright, this won’t matter in a few days.

I don’t react, just lowering my head in respect.

I get called in by my boss to his office.

I check in, and he sits me down.

I’m fired, he says.

I completely zone out everything else he says.

This won’t matter in a few weeks. I can find a new job.

I walk back to my office, my dizziness increasing.

I start to sway, leaning against the wall,

until I inevitably fall to the ground,

passing out and

hitting my head

harder.

I wake up in a blank hospital room.

I had a concussion during the car ride,

And I hadn’t treated it or anything.

It was fine, it wasn’t like I was working anymore.

None of this will matter in a month.

I was told by a nurse I’d fallen and my head bled out,

and that I’d need to be frequently watched

and check my blood pressure and thickness often.

I’d messed up badly.

That was okay.

None of this would matter in a year.

As I go to lie down, the cord to my transfuser unplugs.

I go to hit the button, but think.

None of this will matter in a few years.

In a minute, people will be oblivious.

In an hour, they’ll receive notice.

In a day, people will grieve

In a week, they’ll start to continue their lives.

In a month, everyone will have gotten over me.

In a year, my house will be sold and my job will have been replaced.

In a few years, I’ll fade into forgetfulness. No one will remember me.

None of this will matter in a few years.

None of me will matter in a few years.

I won’t matter in a few years.

I feel my eyes grow heavy, the alarm ringing.

None of me will matter.

It never did.